


Love is Ranting About All the Stupid Shit Your Loved Ones Do

by Greenfaeriefly



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Multi, m/f/m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenfaeriefly/pseuds/Greenfaeriefly
Summary: Mike Lawson is a mess and his rookies are doing their best to kill him.                                              OrMike figures out he might not be the only Padre in love with Baker and it goes a little differently than expected.





	

“Have you ever noticed Baker eats her pizza topping by topping?” Mike goes very very still as soon as the question is out of Duarte’s mouth, but the other catcher doesn’t seem to notice. Mike gets the sense he isn’t really conversing with him so much as thinking out loud. “Like, she eats the pepperoni, and then the cheese, and then the crust... Also, what the hell is her beef with cilantro? How do you even cook a meal without cilantro?”

 _Well shit._ He thinks with a heavy sigh and takes a long pull from his beer. _Another one bites the dust_. Pretty soon Baker’s not going to need any groupies, her teammates will take care of that. Mike shakes his head, knowing from the way Daurte’s talking (which he is still doing by the way, he finally got to the singing thing, it doesn’t offend him nearly as much as her lack of rhythm “I was trying to teach her to salsa but she wouldn’t know how to follow a lead if they were showing her the exit to a burning building....”) this isn’t a sex thing, well, just a sex thing. Speaking from experience, Mike knows it’s probably at least a little bit of a sex thing. And really, he’s seen them together, seen the easy connection they have-on and off the field- and how good they look standing next to each other, knows how well that connection would probably translate in the bed- in other places. He gets it. He really gets it. That doesn’t make it alright though, and if Mike has to fucking keep himself in check, so does the goddamn rookie.

“You put this much thought into all your teammates there Duarte?” Jesus, the kid looks like he forgot Mike was even there. But then something happens that Mike was not expecting. The bastard grins, and fuck those dimples should not be allowed. It’s the same thing that let’s Baker get away with half the shit she pulls. Mike officially hates dimples. His eyes do this weird thing too, like he’s laughing at something hysterical in his head.

“Some of ‘em, yeah.”

Oh. Mike blinks a couple time and clears his throat, “Yeah well, just remember, Baker’s here to play ball, not find a husband.” This time Duarte does laugh and Mike, Mike really is getting too old for this. Rookies were not this irritating when he first agreed to be captain.

“How often you gotta tell yourself that man?” What the actual fuck. Mike’s alarm must be apparent on his face because Duarte shugs in that half apologetic but not really way of his. “Baker and I talk. She mentioned you’d been distant since the Chicago thing. I figured...”

 _Well Christ on a cracker_. “ That’s not exactly accur-”

There’s a resounding smack as Duarte slams his hand on the table, and suddenly he looks a lot more like a ball player than a pretty guy lounging in a bar. That intensity he wears behind the mask is on full display as he crowds into Mike’s space, commanding his attention. “Listen man. I know you’re captain, and speeches are your thing. But just, listen. You’re her catcher. We are her catchers. Which means what she needs comes first. And what she needs is for you to get your head out of your ass. Whatever you feel for her, it doesn’t mean you get to stop being there for her. So,” The bluster seems to go out of him as he trails off uncertainly, not knowing how to finish his little speech. The kids is good, hell in a few years, he’s definitely going to be captain material, but not yet.

Mike takes a deep breath and gives one slight nod, just to let the kid know he’s heard him loud and clear. They sit in an awkward silence for a minute before Mike finally takes pity on him “you know she only does it after her first two slices, the pizza thing. Once she's convinced she isn't going to starve she starts picking it apart.”

“Yeah. She does it with her burritos too. Devours the first half and then tears the rest of it apart.” The smile on Duarte’s face is less of a smirk than Mike is use to seeing. All soft and fond. Mike doesn't need a mirror to know there's a similar one stretched across his own. They are both so fucked.

Duarte throws back the rest of his beer and pushes away from the bar, clapping Mike on the back as he turns to walk away. “Don’t forget what I said man, she’s my pitcher and I’ll come for you if that’s what it takes to keep her head in the game.”

The statement is full of his usual amount of smug teasing, so Mike just rolls his eyes, but he can’t avoid getting in the last word as he turns to watch the rookie walk away. “Those pants look like they were painted on by the way.” It’s not nearly as scathing out loud as it sounded in his head. And from the grin on Livan’s face, not exactly an effective parting shot.

......

Mike is definitely not looking for Baker, he’s just wandering the clubhouse aimlessly, in a pattern that happens to include all of her well known haunts. God, he can’t even convincingly lie to himself anymore, that is truly a new level of pathetic. But, she’s his person. The one he talks shit through with, She was the one he talked about Rachel with, worked through the fact that he was clinging to the last familiar thing he had in the wake of losing baseball. She’s the one he talked to about leaving the game, how much that terrified him. Now, he’s not sure about having this particular conversation with her, or anyone really, but he has a feeling he’ll find no peace until he does.

_‘Hey Rookie, I know we almost kissed a couple weeks ago, and things are still kinda weird. But I think the new guy might have a thing for you, which I know because he notices all the weird shit about you that I do and we all know how that turned out... Also I can’t stop thinking about his fucking dimples, and how he curls up on the bus into like, this pretzel shape that shouldn’t be possible for a person of his size. And how he fucking peels the labels off his beer bottles, never all the way, he just leaves them curled there, half off and I can’t stand it Rookie. And you kno-’_

A deep, straight from your belly laugh rings out into the hallway where Mike’s standing having his internal meltdown. Is this what a Mid-life crisis feels like? It really sucks. The laugh is coming from the gym Mike was just heading towards and he knows that laugh, the one that only happens when she’s relaxed, in the company of people she can trust. (Of course he knows her different laughs, because he is a disaster). And look, rationally, he knows he should just walk in the goddamn room. Less rationally, he knows exactly who is responsible for making her laugh like that ( it's just this gut feeling, because of course he can make her laugh like that too). Which means Mike should just turn around and walk away. But he doesn’t, because he’s a fucking masochist. Of course, it might be something else entirely that makes him walk up to the window, but Mike is really not ready to think about that.

He thought he was prepared, but he really isn’t. It’s so stupid, because there’s nothing particularly intimate about the scene. They’re both spread out on the mats. Duarte is stretching out his calves and Baker is sitting cross legged, just watching him. She’s shaking her head at him in disapproval, but they both have giant dumb grins on their faces and Mike gets a little side-tracked counting dimples.

“You know, Mike doesn’t complain about my humming.”

“Mike started wearing earplugs like a week after you started training together.”

“He did not!”

“You’re right, he’s just so in love with you he’s gone as tone deaf as you are.”

“Shut up Duarte. I’m not the one that he draws reporters away from after a game. He leaves me to fend them off on my own.”

“Yeah, I love it when he does that, fucking hate those pricks.” At this point Duarte has given up on the stretching and flopped down on the mat, hands behind his head and Mike really should be more worried about where this is going, but he can’t quite muster the energy. It’s nice to see them like this, relaxed and happy, bonding over what a bonehead their captain is. “He shares his food with you though, even his stupid avocado toast. And makes sure the waitresses know not to give you anything with cilantro in it when we go out.”

“Would you let the cilantro thing go! And he only does that because he knows how cranky I get when I’m hungry.”

“Well, the rest of the Padres thank him for his service.” One of Ginny’s feet uncoils to kick at Livan’s leg, he dodges it, and she doesn’t bother to pull it back towards her, leaving it outstretched while she scowls in an effort to hide her laughter.

“Asshole.”

“He can’t speak Spanish to save his life.”

“I know! He speaks more than I do, but his accent is terrible.” She screws up her face to imitate his scowl and Mike knows what’s coming even before he hears her terrible impression of him. “Entiendes’” It’s not very flattering at all, and Mike feels heat creep down his neck. Livan grins at her and mentions her pronunciation isn’t gonna win any awards either, which makes Mike feel marginally better.

They sit in silence for a minute, and Mike thinks maybe he should stop pressing his luck and unglue his feet from the floor. He’s really really glad he doesn’t get that far when Livan clucks his tongue and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s kinda cute though.”

“Yeah... God we are such goners.”

“Yup. Come ‘ere, let me get your legs.” He pulls her forward by the foot she used to kick him and she whines while twisting to pull away.

She continues to complain even though she grudgingly gets to her feet.“No. You push too hard.”

“Don’t be a baby. You gotta stretch out your quads or you get all fidgety because they knot up.”

“Well why don’t I get a nice massage instead of leg torture.”

“You know you love it, you’re a masochist like that.”

Mike nearly keels over right there when Livan pulls her into a two person split. She’s bent practically in half, her hand planted on the ground, head between them, with one leg straight and the other hiked over Duarte’s shoulder, pointing up in the air while he keeps her balanced. Leave it to Baker to ruin his ogling though.

“Ow you fucker.”

“Don’t whine. Come on mami, you can go higher than that. There you go, straight up. Now gimme the other one. ” Ginny glares furiously when he gives her ass a swat before he lets her bring her leg down and straighten up before switching legs and bending again. There’s an audible sigh of relief when her leg stretches up this time. “ See, I told you that you need to stretch it out.”

“Yeah yeah. Kill the smugness papi, it ain’t a good look.”

“I have it on good authority that is it a great look thanks.” They settle into silence as Livan finishes raising her leg. But Ginny’s worrying her lip with her teeth, and Mike can tell her focus isn’t on the stretch anymore, Livan can too. “What’s worrying that head of your’s Baker. I’m offended I don’t have your full attention, you got a pretty good view down there you know.”

Ginny snorts, but as he eases her leg down and helps her straighten she goes serious. “How was- I mean. When you talked to him was he-”

Livan sighs and shoots her a sympathetic look. “It’s gonna take awhile before he’s ready Gin. His ex fucked him up good. And he’s still- It was bad enough when it was just you. But wrapping his head around both of us? You just gotta be patient Mami. He’ll come around.”

“Kay. I guess it is a lot to expect of a dinosaur like him. He’s not as liberated as we young folks.”

“You know, if you had better rhythm we could avoid all the hassle and just take him to a salsa bar, in my experience it’s a pretty effective seduction tactic.”

“Well why don’t we do that?”

“Just a guess, but watching you sprain an ankle because you can’t step on beat, or follow a lead might kill the mood a little.”

“You aren’t nice.”

Mike finally finally collects himself enough to scurry away from the gym with the sound of Livan’s deep chuckle echoing in his ears. He reminds himself to have a talk with the fucking rookies about having private conversations where anyone can hear. And he will, just as soon as he can bring himself to look at either one of them. So probably next season at the earliest.

.......

Weeks later, after Mike has had approximately ten billion meltdowns, he’s working to catch his breath and trying really hard not to pass out -did he have this much stamina when he was in his twenties? He’d really like to think so but holy shit- Livan turns to Ginny and throws her a devastating grin. “I told you that you had the sexiest groupies.”


End file.
